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Sylus had far too many safehouses for Zayne’s comfort. He said so each time he was introduced to a new one, and this mansion was no exception. The private estate in Valerion was all black volcanic stone and dark cedar polished smooth by steam and time. Lanterns burned low beneath overhanging eaves, their amber glow softened by drifting mist, and somewhere deeper within the sprawling estate came the distant sound of water pouring endlessly from one spring into another. The entire place felt removed from the rest of the world—quiet in the way temples were quiet, where unholy thoughts should not be entertained.
Zayne was beginning to suspect that his husband had chosen it specifically to torment him. Sylus had always smelled rather pleasant, given his expensive taste in cologne. But over the course of several days, the man’s scent had become especially heady to the point of near-intoxication. Zayne could not help but lean in for prolonged whiffs, finding menial excuses to be closer to Sylus. At night, he’d wake to find his nose practically shoved into the crook of Sylus’ neck and a roaring arousal to match.
This was on purpose. Zayne could not be convinced otherwise, no matter how much Sylus tried to play it off. And what was worse, Zayne seemed to be the only one affected.
“You’re staring again,” Sylus mused aloud.
“I’m reading.”
Sylus hummed from where he lounged half-submerged in the spring. “Mm. And I’m the pope.”
Zayne lowered the datapad just enough to glare over the top of it. The effort might have been more effective if he himself had not been dressed like a sacrificial offering. Zayne had expected robes. Perhaps slippers as part of the “vacation” experience, even if they weren’t at a resort or hotel.
He had not expected the jewels and loincloths. Zayne was not accustomed to such revealing clothing. One wrong move would reveal his entire package. It didn’t matter that the two men were alone in the massive estate, that no one else would see the evidence of their lavish, exposing attire except for a husband who’d seen him naked plenty of times before. Something about this felt too much like dressing up for a very specific kind of attention.
Thin gold chains draped across his chest beneath his collarbones, linked by small crimson stones that caught the lanternlight whenever he moved. The white loincloth wrapped low around his hips left far too much skin exposed for his comfort, and the translucent outer robe hanging loosely from his shoulders did absolutely nothing to help matters. His hair, still damp from the springs, curled faintly at the ends near his neck.
Across from him, Sylus looked utterly at home and utterly unbothered.
Of course he did.
The white fabric at his waist sat scandalously low against pale skin, gold adornments glimmering across his broad chest and shoulders like he’d stepped directly out of some ancient painting depicting a god with questionable morals. One powerful arm rested lazily along the stone edge of the bath, steam curling up and around his shoulder.
Zayne hated that this somehow made everything worse.
“You could at least attempt subtlety,” he muttered.
Sylus finally looked up from his drink, red eyes gleaming with entirely too much amusement. “Why would I do that when watching you pretend not to stare is significantly more entertaining?”
“I told you: I was not staring, I was reading.”
“Really? You nearly drowned when I adjusted my towel earlier.”
Zayne’s ears warmed instantly. “That,” he said carefully, “was because you were leaning directly over me.”
Sylus smiled slowly. “So?”
Heat crawled beneath Zayne’s skin in a way entirely unrelated to the springs. Married three years, and the man could still dismantle him with a single syllable. It was infuriating.
Worse still, Sylus knew it. The realization had apparently delighted him enough to turn it into a lifelong hobby.
Zayne attempted to return his attention to the datapad. He retained precisely three words before awareness prickled sharply across the back of his neck again.
Looking up had been a mistake.
Sylus had shifted closer sometime during the silence, water rolling softly over his chest as he moved through the steam. Gold chains glimmered against damp skin. One jewel rested directly beneath the hollow of his throat.
Zayne looked away immediately.
Sylus' quiet chuckle followed. “You’re hopeless tonight.”
“And you’re impossible tonight.”
“Mm. Yet you continue looking.”
Zayne clicked off the screen of his datapad. “For the last time, I was not staring—”
Before Zayne could finish his response, Sylus reached out and caught one of the loose gold strands draped across Zayne’s chest.
The touch itself was innocent. The slow drag of warm fingers against damp skin, however, absolutely was not. Zayne inhaled sharply before he could stop himself.
Sylus’ gaze flicked upward instantly, triumphant. “There it is.”
“It slipped,” Zayne said flatly.
“Your composure?”
“My chain. Stop touching it.”
That earned him a genuine laugh—low and warm and devastatingly fond in the depths of Sylus’ chest. Zayne ignored the little flip in his belly.
Sylus moved closer still until their knees brushed beneath the water. Steam curled thickly around them now, cloaking the rest of the world in silver haze.
“Something troubling you, sweetie?” Sylus murmured.
“You.”
“A chronic condition, I fear.”
Zayne shot him another look, though it lacked any real irritation behind it. Sylus had always been exceptionally skilled at pulling reactions from him. Not through cruelty, but patience and persistence masked with harmless teasing. The kind of attentive observation that became dangerous in the hands of someone intelligent enough to use it properly.
Sylus knew every version of his silence.
The thoughtful kind. The angry kind. The exhausted kind.
And, of course, this kind. The one that meant Zayne wanted something and could not quite force himself to ask for it directly.
It had been an issue while they dated and remained persistent throughout their marriage. Not because Sylus ever denied him affection. Quite the opposite, really. Sylus gave it freely, lavishly, constantly—touches to the waist while passing through rooms, kisses pressed absentmindedly against his temple while working late, fingers brushing the back of his neck during crowded events as if reassuring himself Zayne remained within reach. He loved Zayne out loud, both emotionally and carnally. It was what drew Zayne to Sylus to begin with.
But Zayne had never been like that. Of course he felt desire for his partner just as much as Sylus did for him, but Zayne had always been the more reserved of the two of them. Letting go of his bashfulness even after several years of partnership felt a stretch too far, even despite knowing that any room with Sylus in it was a safe space to do so.
All the same, initiating still felt strangely vulnerable sometimes. Demanding, even. Sylus disagreed with that philosophy so vehemently it bordered on offensive.
Which was precisely why Sylus looked unbearably pleased right now.
Zayne’s eyes flicked away to observe the rising steam around them. “No,” he said immediately.
“I haven’t said anything.”
“No, but you’re about to. I know you.”
“Hm, good point.” Sylus leaned in just enough for Zayne to feel the warmth of his breath near his ear. “We’ve talked about this. Stop thinking so hard and use your words, kitten.”
Zayne closed his eyes briefly.
“There it is,” Sylus whispered again, delighted.
“Has anyone told you that you are a menace? If not, here it is: you are a menace.”
“And you,” Sylus said, fingers sliding beneath Zayne’s choker, “are avoiding a very simple request.”
Zayne became acutely aware of the fact that somewhere within the giant estate, cleaning services were tidying up the house. He had no way to know whether they were within earshot or clear across the mansion.
“You enjoy this far too much,” Zayne mumbled.
“You’re not wrong,” Sylus mused. “I rather enjoy seeing you flushed for me.”
The response came instantly from him. Easily. As though it were the simplest truth in the world. That was the problem with Sylus, really. Beneath all the teasing and sharp-edged amusement lived a kind of frightening sincerity. When he loved, he did so completely. Openly. Without hesitation.
Zayne had spent his entire life learning restraint. Sylus had spent only a fraction of those years trying to teach the opposite.
A pair of attendants appeared briefly at the edge of the springs, bowing politely as they approached with a tray of fresh tea.
“My apologies for disturbing you, sirs,” one said. “Would you like the chef to begin preparing dinner?”
Zayne opened his mouth to answer, but Sylus beat him to it.
“My husband,” Sylus said smoothly, “is still deciding whether he intends to ask for what he wants.”
The attendant’s expression did not change even slightly, though amusement flickered dangerously near the edges of it. Zayne considered drowning Sylus in the very spring they sat in. He settled for glaring at him instead.
“How fortunate,” Zayne said coolly, “that murder appears difficult to investigate in mountainous regions.”
The attendant coughed suspiciously into their sleeve, while Sylus only grinned.
The dinner was prepared anyway, Sylus naturally forcing Zayne to decide on the menu. Once that was done, the attendants backed out the way they came, leaving both gentlemen alone again. One grinning, the other scowling.
By the time night settled fully across the mountains, the lanterns had dimmed to molten gold beneath the dark. Their reserved spring sat secluded near the edge of the cliffside, partially open to the cool evening air. Steam drifted upward into the stars.
Still scowling, Zayne drifted to the water’s edge to rest his forearms on the heated stone, watching moonlight ripple silver across the surface.
Behind him came the soft sound of sloshing water, followed quickly by weighted warmth. Sylus’ arms slid around his waist, broad chest settling against his back as a kiss brushed slowly against the curve of his damp shoulder.
No teasing this time. Just closeness.
“You’ve been thinking too loudly all evening,” Sylus murmured.
Zayne exhaled softly. “I know you already understand what I mean without my saying it. You know my…wants.”
“Of course.”
“Then why insist, Sylus?”
Sylus was quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice had gentled into something unbearably tender. “Because I want you to know you’re allowed to ask.”
The words settled somewhere deep beneath Zayne’s ribs. All of the earlier teasing was gone now, leaving nothing between them except pure honesty.
Sylus rested his chin briefly against his shoulder. “You never have to earn affection from me, Zayne. You know this. My desire for you is yours, free of charge.”
God, there it was again—that terrible, devastating sincerity.
The new proximity allowed him to get a lungful of that intoxicating scent again, Zayne being grateful that Sylus couldn’t see his eyes roll shut from how much the smell pleased him. Lanternlight caught along the gold chains crossing Sylus’ chest. Steam curled between them, softening sharp edges into something dreamlike.
Without looking down, Zayne knew his arousal would tent through the scanty material around his hips, but for a moment, neither of them spoke. There were so many moments like this where Sylus would take the hint and thus take the lead. But not tonight. He was choosing to be stubborn to force Zayne to do the hard thing.
Zayne’s expression pinched. “Must I really say it aloud?” he groaned into his forearms.
Sylus’ mouth curved against his temple. “I can’t force you. But it would please me immensely.”
Zayne sighed the way one sighed before surrendering to an unavoidable fate. Pleasing Sylus was enough to make him do anything. He shut his eyes before speaking. “I…want you, Sylus,” he finally said, feeling his face grow hot for more reasons than just the heat of the springs. “I always want you, but now more than ever. You’ve smelled incredibly intoxicating the last several days, filling my thoughts with nothing but carnal desire.”
Sylus breathed in sharply behind him, his grip tightening on Zayne’s hips to pull him firmly back against him. Zayne could feel the evidence of Sylus desire prodding his backside. When he pushed back against it, Sylus released a sound nestled somewhere between a growl and a low sigh.
Th effect sent heat straight to Zayne’s groin.
Sylus’ hands roamed upward to Zayne’s sides, chest, and then shoulders, massaging thickly as they went. Zayne couldn’t help but sigh half in want, half in pleasant relief. It was only when the heat of Sylus’ chest met his back that Zayne opened his eyes again, finding himself caged between the man’s long arms now braced on either side of him.
The heat of the hot springs, combined with the impossibly-warmer temperature of Sylus pressed against him, and the heady musk of this scent wafting from him pulled a groan from Zayne that he could not hold back.
“Mmm, Sylus you must have done something to your scent on purpose,” Zayne sighed. “It’s been driving me mad all week.”
A low chuckle was the response, the air ghosting from Sylus’ lips to Zayne’s ear. The latter couldn’t help the shiver that ran down his spine.
“Of course I did this on purpose,” Sylus admitted, pointedly grinding against Zayne for good measure. “You are the smartest man I have ever met to the point of genius, and your intelligence arouses me to no end. But you tend to think too hard, sweetie, when something like human desire requires no thoughts. It's all instinct and honesty at its core, but you get in your own way with that beautiful brain of yours.”
Zayne swallowed but didn’t interrupt as Sylus continued speaking.
“I want you to tell me exactly what you want tonight,” Sylus whispered.
Zayne shuddered at the breath ghosting his ear once more. “You can do whatever you want to me,” he said lowly.
He couldn’t see it but felt the water droplets hit his back as Sylus shook his head. “Not enough, sweetie. Try again.”
Zayne wanted to scream from the building frustration below his waist, warring with the shyness to do what Sylus requested.
Sensing he needed to be helped along, Sylus reached up to snake his fingers from Zayne’s nape up into his scalp and tugged, the latter moaning from the sting.
“I want you to take me,” Zayne finally sputtered. “I’ve wanted it all week. I want you to take me just like this.”
“Just like this, you say? Do you want it hard or gentle today?”
Zayne’s face felt so incredibly flushed at the lewd way this conversation was going. “H-hard. Sylus, please—ah!”
So caught up in his own embarrassment, Zayne hadn’t noticed when Sylus maneuvered himself into a position that allowed him to deliver a singular wallop to his backside. The cheek stung from still being somewhat wet, and Zayne yelped when a second spank joined the first.
He throbbed with desire as a result of the sting.
Sylus all but growled as he cupped and squeezed at the cheek he’d just spanked. “I was waiting for you to say that. But making you open your mouth isn't easy.” He sighed in dramatic fashion. “No matter, I will make good use of your mouth as a lesson to you.”
Just the thought alone was enough to make Zayne squirm. When his hair was finally released, Zayne slumped forward, unsure what Sylus had in store for him. He didn’t move from his position, waiting for Sylus to direct his next steps.
“Come here.”
Zayne went immediately.
The water shifted around them as he drew Zayne close at last, jewel chains catching warm lantern light between their bodies while steam rose heavenward like incense. The kiss was sloppy but short, Sylus pulling away to hoist himself up to sit on the pool’s edge. Zanye couldn’t help but salivate when the loincloth was pulled to the side to properly reveal the leaking arousal beneath it.
Zayne needed no further prompting. Water splashed in his eagerness to stand between Sylus’ thighs, licking a singular strip from balls to tip before swallowing as much of length down as far it could go.
He could never and would never be able to deepthroat Sylus to the hilt. The man was simply too endowed both in girth and in length for this to be possible. But Sylus certainly loved to try forcing it, Zayne enjoyed being manhandled in the bedroom.
His only warning to take a deep breath was the deliberately slow shift of Sylus’ fingers into his damp hair. But once Sylus got a good grip, Zayne found his head shoved down onto Sylus’ cock. Predictably, Zayne gave a loud gag from the effort but kept his mouth wide open, careful to mind his teeth and tongue. His eyes watered as Sylus took control over the pace and momentum, simply shutting his watering eyes with hands obediently braced on either of Sylus’ thighs while his head was moved up and down.
Sylus liked it sloppy, and it quickly became that way. Occasionally, Sylus would keep Zayne’s head down until he was sure the man needed air, letting him to gasp for several breaths worth of oxygen before doing it all over again. It carried on this way for some time until Sylus deigned to offer some mercy in pulling Zayne off his cock altogether.
Zayne’s face was a flushed mess. His cheeks were streaked with tears of effort while a mix of saliva and precum shone on his lips and chin. His chest heaved as he took in the air he’d been starved of, eyes closed in absolute bliss.
Yes, this is what he wanted, what he’d craved for days.
“You’ve made it nice and wet, good boy,” Sylus crooned, and Zayne was sure he’d melt on the spot. He couldn’t find the ability to form words, merely moaning in affirmation to what was said.
Sylus tapped his face once, lightly, in affection. “Now step to my right—yes, like that. Lean forward against the edge with legs slightly apart…just like that. Don’t move until I tell you. Can you do that for me?”
In the haze of lust clouding his mind, Zayne managed to decipher what was ordered and execute them, nodding once. He rest his forehead against his forearms, using some of the spring water to somewhat-clean his face of the mess while Sylus moved away.
Zayne wondered what was happening out of his peripheral, but obediently didn’t move from his position. He could only hear the slosh of water as Sylus left the pool and then re-entered to settle behind him. He heard the cap of something open, and the wet slap of cotton as Sylus removed his loincloth entirely.
Zayne saw what the cap belonged to when Sylus placed the still-open bottle back onto the pool's ledge. It was the grapeseed oil that had been used the day prior for a massage appointment. Zayne knew enough about its properties to know it was a safe substitution for lubricant.
He shivered at the feel of his own loincloth flipped up and over to rest on his back, leaving him exposed from the thighs upward.
“Relax for me…”
Zayne, who hadn’t realized he’d been clenching in anticipation, relaxed the muscles of his entrance with several deep breaths. Only then did Sylus deign to breach him with his fingers. He started with one, moving the digit in and out for several repetitions before adding a second to the knuckle.
Zayne let out a heavy breath at the gentle stretch, but the pressure to his prostate pulled a low, drawn-out moan from him that caused his thighs to shake.
“You’re so responsive tonight,” Sylus observed, purposely pressing the pads of his fingers down once more. When Zayne arched away, Sylus chuckled and pulled his fingers out, liberally applying more of the oil to his length to ensure this would be as painless as possible.
“Relax…breathe…”
Zayne does so as a blunt tip much bigger than two fingers prods at his opening. There’s a slight burn from the stretch as the head pops in, but Sylus doesn’t rush this part, waiting for several seconds before inching the rest of himself inside.
A collective groan spilled from both men once Sylus was settled firmly at the hilt. Again, Sylus waited with an otherworldly patience for Zayne to adjust before sliding nearly all the way out and back in again, specifically at the angle he knew would be most pleasurable.
“Oh..ffuu…” The swear doesn’t make it all the way out, but the implication is enough for Sylus to groan Zayne’s name.
The sound of his name spilling past Sylus’ lips makes him clench. “I like it when you say my name,” Zayne moaned. “Please, please say it again.”
The next thrust jolts Zayne’s body forward, but his head tossed back in bliss when the pace picked up and Sylus obliged his request. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth to keep his volume somewhat muffled, unsure if how far away any house staff might be.
But Sylus would have none of that. Tightening his grip on Zayne’s hips, Sylus widened his stance and leaned forward, deepening his thrusts until Zayne has no choice but to openly moan Sylus’ name in turn.
“Wait, Sylus, ha—”
“No.”
Sylus reached around to pull Zayne’s hair and force his arch into a degree he liked, deepening his strokes so that each one was a direct hit to that spot he knew would cause an immediate spike in volume. And for Zayne, each thrust felt like a punch to his center.
Indeed, Zayne’s sounds—which bounced between breathy moans and deep groans—now settle in a higher pitch of loud keens. Zayne felt so much pleasure, stars blinked across his vision. He was going to cum from this alone, he could tell. Already precum dribbled relentlessly.
He reached back to slow Sylus down, only to find his hands slapped away and his head roughly yanked backward. Sylus paused his hips to speak.
“Put your hands on the ledge and keep them there. Understood?”
Zayne could only moan in compliance as he did as commanded. Once his palms touched the ledge, the punishing pace resumed.
He could feel the pressure building in his core. He was most certainly going to climax soon if Sylus didn’t let up, and when he voiced as much, Sylus’ answer was to move faster.
It started in Zayne’s legs. His thighs tensed to the point of trembling, the tremors traveling from thighs to glutes. Having nothing to grab onto except the unforgiving stone ledge, Zayne’s hands opened and closed around nothing. His eyes shut tight, mouth open in silent scream as he finally fell over the cliff of pleasure.
Sylus’ pace turned erratic as he chased his own pleasure., quickly sending Zayne over into the threshold of overstimulation. He shook his head, tried to escape. But ‘fuck’ and ‘please’ were not his safewords. The onslaught of sensation continued until finally, finally, Sylus spilled within his walls with what could only be described as a near-roar of triumph.
The moment Sylus pulled out, Zayne’s legs lost the ability to remember their use. They buckled under his weight, Sylus reaching out to catch him by the waist.
Sylus chuckled and maneuvered them to sitting in the pool, Zayne on his lap. They would need to get out soon for dinner, but only once he was sure Zayne wouldn’t pass out on the way there.
“Still with me, Zayne?”
“No,” Zayne mumbled. “This is my specter. You killed me several thrusts ago.”
A second deep laugh joined the first, Zayne closing his eyes to feel it resonate within Sylus’ chest.
“You did ask for it hard, in my defense. This was tame compared to our usual romps.”
“Was it?” Zayne frowned tiredly. “It didn’t feel that way. Perhaps I was just more frustrated than I realized…”
“Mhm, perhaps. Now as much as I’d love to fall asleep with you here, we do need to cool off and prepare for dinner. It would be a shame to waste the chef’s steak you specifically requested.”
Oh. Zayne had completely forgotten about that. He groaned at the reminder, but nodded defeatedly. “I…can’t stand just yet.”
Even admitting that much roused a flush to his cheeks that traveled to his ears.
“And I can feel you leaking out of me. I’d rather not walk so indecently between here and upstairs even if I could stand. Do you have enough energy in reserves to port us back to our bedroom?”
Sylus chuckled darkly. “But I thought you hated when I did that. You almost threw up last time.”
“Last time you ported me to the thirteenth story of a high-rise without warning. This is hardly the same.”
Well, Sylus supposed he had a point. “Very well then...”
And then they were gone.